Warden of Darkness (Dragon Age/World of Darkness)

[TyrantTriumphant]

In one moment, he was in one place and in the next he was in another.

It was a rather difficult thing to describe.

Jack Tanner was a Cainite, a vampire in mortal terms and thus somewhat accustomed to odd things.

But this was new.

He could remember New York City, the siege, the war against the Sabbat, the ritual, and then nothing.

In his next conscious thoughts, he was in an unknown forest. He wasn’t too disturbed by this, after all, he was a Gangrel rather than some pansy-ass Toreador, but these woods were somewhat more overgrown than any that he knew of in the United States.

As to how he got here, well that was somewhat difficult to remember. He could recall men with staves and robes, the red tinged anger of frenzy, blood on his claws, on his fangs, screaming . . . and then he was here.

Under the sun.

That was rather important wasn’t it?

Cainites are a nocturnal race. They have been since God banished the first murderer from the light of His day. To find himself walking around untroubled in the sunlight was rather disconcerting.

If nothing else this was enough to convince Jack that something strange was going on.

But whatever it was, Jack wasn’t worried.

Because after all, how bad could this place really be?

--------------------------------------------------

Jack had been in the woods for several days now and he was already sick of it. Yeah, he was a Gangrel, the Cainite clan known for their survivalist skills, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed roughing it. For one there was a severe lack of human vessels to feed off of.

He wasn’t going to starve. Jack been embraced two years ago, which meant he was capable of sustaining himself off of animal blood. To be honest, Jack sort of pitied the elders for their need to feed off mortals. When he wasn’t resenting them for being tyrannical assholes of course.

But animals were still a far cry from humans. He so missed Manhattan’s vast hordes of vagrants and illegals. So sweet and expendable. As long as you made sure they weren’t on drugs or something first. Like that one time that had Jack fed off of some hobo who was high on LDS right before a meeting with the prince, and he started tripping out right in front of the whole court . . . Damn maybe Jack was hungrier than he thought.

Regardless, Jack wasn’t in Kansas anymore. As if it hadn’t been obvious enough that New York was worlds away, not ten minutes ago he had been attacked by giant Spiders.

Not like tarantulas, but spiders the size of rottweilers.

It might not be impossible to find those on earth, after all the world was large and filled with strange and dangerous things, but that combined with the other discrepancies was all leading up to a very disconcerting picture. At least it wasn’t New Jersey.

---------------------------------------------------------

After two weeks stuck in the middle of the wilderness Jack had finally spotted a sign of habitation. He had been hunting for prey sometime around midnight when he had spotted the glow of a campfire off in the distance. Having not interacted with anyone for two weeks Jack was naturally keen to investigate.

He slipped closer, able to see perfectly in the dark thanks to his knowledge of the protean discipline. Within a few minutes the Gangrel found himself bordering a small clearing, which sure enough contained a man sitting at a campfire.

The man was anachronistic looking. He was an older man with slightly dark skin, a scraggly beard, and wore a suit of plate armor with a sword and dagger sheathed on his back. It was a very medieval look but at this point Jack wasn’t surprised. Compared to giant spiders what was this?

Approaching the man would be a risk, but it was one Jack needed to take. The Cainite needed to know where he was. And if the man wasn’t helpful, it’d been a while since he’d tasted human.

After some deliberation Jack decided to approach openly. It would be best not to startle the man and cause a conflict. And if things went wrong the options of murder or running away still remained. However strong of fast this human was, Cainites still had advantages that couldn’t be beaten.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Jack entered the clearing in full view and let the man take stock of him. The Gangrel wouldn’t have looked out of place back in New York City, but that might not apply here. Physically he had pallid skin, brown hair, and looked to be around sixteen years old, as that was when he had been embraced two years ago. Fairly average street clothes rounded out the pedestrian look, nothing but a pair of blue jeans, sneakers, and t-shirt.

So naturally Jack was surprised at the wary look the man gave him. At least until he realized that he had forgot to deactivate his protean eyes.

People do tend to react badly to their fellow men walking around with glowing red animalistic eyes.

Damn the hunger was starting to get to him. He’d never made that mistake before.

After taking a moment to curse himself for his utter stupidity, Jack decided that his previous plan of masquerading as a human was no longer viable. It looked like he would have to take another approach.

The Cainite put on his best smile, (it was terrible) deactivated his protean eyes and walked over to the man.

“Hello there, mind if I have a seat?”

The man in armor seemed a little surprised but nodded, and so Jack sat down a few feet from the fire.

“I’m new around here.” Jack said. “You don’t suppose you could tell me the name of this place?”

“It is called the Brecilian Forrest.” The man answered.

“Great. I’m going to cut to the chase. I found myself here through some rather unusual circumstances, and am totally lost. Could you help me out? “

“Of course.” The man said. “If you wouldn’t mind answering some questions in return.”

“Sure. If you show me a map first.”

The man simply raised an eyebrow.

Jack held out his hand.

Lacking a verbal response, the armored human pulled a map out of his robe and handed them to Jack. The contents were about what Jack had expected.

He was no longer on earth. Other realms of existence were not entirely unknown to Cainites, though not much more than that they were best left to spirits and lupines. Considering this, why couldn’t Jack have gone to another world? All available evidence seemed to support the theory.

And this would explain him not disintegrating under the sun. It made sense really. Cainites were banned from the light of earth’s sun, sol, not stars in general. If this was another world, and its sun was not earth’s sun, that there was simply no reason for it to harm him.

But that didn’t really matter now. What mattered was that Jack could not tell the natives that he was from another world. Caine knew it was hard enough for Jack to believe even though he had been through it. Any explanation would be taken as either deceit or insanity.

And so, Jack would lie.

When asked where he was from, he would claim to be from another continent. Judging from the map and the observed technology level, it would be a believable story.

And if it wasn’t, he would eat the traveler.

If discussions continued, the masquerade would still be useful, if in a highly modified form. Jack would be open about his nature, about being a vampire, but he wouldn’t tell this native everything. The basics, but anything more he would lie about or refuse to answer.

Course decided Jack spoke. “Now before I answer any questions Mr.?”

“Duncan.”

“Duncan. I fell that I should warn you that my superiors have a habit of murdering anyone who learns too much about my people. So, you might want to be careful about what you mention to others.”

“Thank you, I will. Now,” Duncan’s voice hardened. “What are you?”

“Could you clarify?” Jack replied.

“What are you?” Duncan repeated. “You’re obviously not human or elvish. The only creatures I’ve met that resemble you were abominations.”

An abomination? That sounded ominous.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not familiar with that term.”

Surprise flashed across Duncan’s face. “An abomination is a creature that is possessed by a demon.”

Jack didn’t know a lot about demons besides what he had read in the Bible, but he knew enough. Namely that they should be destroyed on sight, and avoided if at all possible. It was one of the few things that all Cainites agreed on, even those murderous lunatics in the Sabbat.

“Well I can assure you I’m not one of these abomination things. Interacting with demons has always been banned on pain of death.”

At this point Jack realized something. The people here had a term for being possessed by a demon.

Back home they called a person possessed by a demon “a person possessed by a demon.” Because it basically never happened. But here it was apparently common enough to warrant its own term.

He never had to put up with this kind of crap in New York.

But Duncan was still waiting for an answer. Well, he’d get one that was true, if only in a distorted way.

“My species are called Cainites,” Jack began. “We come into being somewhat differently than most creatures. When we are,” Jack struggled for the right words. “Born we are born dead. Then we merge with a being of hunger and spite that we call “the beast”, which brings us to a semblance of life.”

Duncan’s eyes widened a bit at this but Jack continued.

“To be clear, the beast is not a demon. The beast is not a spirit. The beast is the beast.”

And now to explain the hard part. Vampire feeding habits.

“But as undead we do not survive on the same things as mortals. We drink blood.”

“Blood?”

“Human blood preferably. Not necessarily enough to kill them, but I do need it. I’m still young enough that I can subsist on animal blood but I’d need far more of it.”

Duncan frowned and sat in silence for a minute.

“That could be difficult for you. You might not be an abomination, but many will not believe that. Especially the Chantry.”

“What is the Chantry?” Jack asked.

“They are the main religious authority of the known world. They would not take kindly to someone with your particular dietary needs. It would remind them to much of blood magic.”

That really didn’t sound good. All powerful religious organizations and Cainites tended not to get along well. And though humans were weak individually, Jack had crossed paths with the Society of Leopold often enough know how dangerous they could be when organized.

So much for returning to civilization.

“Well,” Jack began. “If that’s the case I may want to stay in the forest for a while. Living around a bunch of violent fanatics doesn’t really sound like my style.”

“You could do that, but there are alternatives.”

Jack raised an eyebrow but gestured for Duncan to continue.

“I am a member of an organization called the Grey Wardens. We are granted immunity from ordinary laws in exchange for our service. If you were to prove yourself worthy of joining us, then the Chantry would find it difficult to touch you.”

After a pause Jack responded. “All right. I’m listening.”


A/N: This is a story of mine that I'm cross-posting from Spacebattles. All the previously written content should be up here within the next few days.

 

[Tiamat]

Interesting...

Pray, continue....

 

[TyrantTriumphant]

Jack didn’t agree to join the Wardens immediately, nor would Duncan have been willing to accept him without proof that the Gangrel would be an asset. But Jack did agree to follow Duncan on his journey to Ostagar, where most of his order was gathered.

On the way Duncan told him about this land he found himself in, Thedas, and about the Darkspawn who threatened it. In return, Jack told Duncan a bit about himself and his own homeland.

Censored of course. There was no need for Duncan to know the more unsettling details about the Cainite race. Especially considering the apparent zealotry of the local religion.

But Jack did tell him the basics, making sure to mention his own battles against the Sabbat and the Society of Leopold.

After this and several demonstrations of his disciplines and fighting abilities, Duncan asked him to join the Grey Wardens, and Jack accepted.

Though along the way to Ostagar something very odd became apparent. Jack was not speaking English.

Oh, he could still speak English if he tried. But whenever he spoke in conversation it was in . . . whatever the hell it was they spoke here.

Jack wasn’t worried though. He had absolutely no idea what was going on nor any way to figure it out. So why worry about something he can’t change? Really that summed up his life in the last couple of weeks pretty well.

---------------------------------------------

Jack Tanner was not impressed. Granted it took a lot to impress him these days as most people paled before the sheer power of the Camarilla elders who he worked for.

“Ho there Duncan.” King Cailan greeted the Wardens as they arrived at Ostagar.

Despite the unfairness of it, Jack could not help but compare this king to his old bosses.

And when this blonde-haired man in gilded armor sauntered up to him and opened his mouth the difference was striking.

“A royal welcome? I was beginning you’d miss out on all the fun!”

“Not if I can help it your majesty.” Duncan replied.

“Then I’ll have the mighty Duncan at my side in battle after all. Glorious!” The king looked Jack over and said, “The other Wardens told me you found a promising recruit. I take it this is he?”

Duncan gestured in Jack’s direction. “Allow me to introduce you your majesty.”

Cailan chuckled at this. “No need to be so formal Duncan. We’ll be shedding blood together after all. Ho there friend! Might I know your name?”

“Jack.”

Cailan beamed at the Gangrel’s gruff reply.

“I admit that I was told some rather unbelievable things about you. That you were a member of an unknown race from beyond Thedas.” Cailan said in a tone of boyish wonder.

Cainite elders were many things. Greedy, sociopathic, and often insane. But they were rarely incompetent. To survive in the cutthroat society of the Camarilla you had to be brilliant and paranoid.

So, while they might kill you to advance one of their schemes, or just for fun, it was unlikely for them to do so out of incompetence.

Jack wasn’t so sure about King Cailan.

“This is true your majesty.” Duncan responded to Cailan. “The Grey Wardens travel widely in search of ways to combat the Darkspawn. Jack here was one of the things we encountered.”

The story that Duncan had created about Jack was entirely true and entirely misleading. That they had found a scout from an unknown people while scouring the wilderness.

This was not the same story that Duncan had sent back the Warden leadership at Weisshaupt fortress. Jack knew perfectly well that no one would ever believe that he was from another world, and the story he had told to Duncan earlier had a few rather obvious holes in it.

So, he had made a better one.

While speaking with Duncan Jack had implied, though not outright stated, that he had been scouting out Thedas on behalf of the Camarilla. Though he had been quite clear that any potential invasion or return to his homeland was unlikely in the near future due to recent political instability.

Much like Duncan’s explanation to Cailan, this was true from a certain point of view. Tanner was taking note of everything he saw and planned to report it to his superiors if at all possible. And while the Camarilla was hardly cohesive at the best of times, the recent catastrophe known as the Week of Nightmares had cut the Ivory Tower to the bone. Simply put, the Camarilla was in no state for any large-scale undertakings.

“Well, I suppose I should welcome you to Ferelden then Jack.” Cailan said. “I hope whatever nation you call home will accept the friendship of mine.”

For a moment a tinge of worry flashed across the young king’s face. “Andraste knows we have enough enemies.”

The worry left his expression as quickly as it had come. “I’m sorry to cut this short, but I should return to my tent. Loghain waits eagerly to bore me with his strategies.”

“Your Uncle sends his greetings and reminds you that Redcliffe forces could be here in less than a week.” Duncan said.

King Cailan laughed. “Eamon just wants in on the glory. We’ve won three battles against these monsters and tomorrow should be no different.”

He seemed to be quite enthusiastic about this, though it would be premature to judge. After all, this man had fought the darkspawn and Jack had not. But it still seemed like a poor attitude to take to war.

“I’m not sure it will be that easy. War has habit of taking unexpected turns.” Jack said.

Duncan chimed in. “Indeed, your majesty, I’m not certain the blight can be ended quite as . . . quickly as you might wish.”

“I’m not even certain this is a true blight There are plenty of darkspawn on the field, but alas, we’ve seen no sign of an archdemon.”

“Disappointed your majesty?”

“I’d hoped for a war like in the tales!” Cailan answered. “A king riding with the fabled Grey Wardens against a tainted god. But I suppose this will have to do. I must go before Loghain sends out a search party. Farwell Grey Wardens!”

“I’m not sure his expectations are grounded in reality.” Jack said once he was sure Cailan was out of earshot. “In my experience, war tends to be rather lacking in glory. It is simply messy and exhausting.”

“Then you understand why this war must be ended as quickly as possible.” responded Duncan. “Which is why we need to begin the Joining without delay.”

“Very well. But I must remind you that I do need to drink some blood before long. It feels like every time I see a human’s neck, it’s demanding that I tear it open and guzzle down the contents.”

Duncan seemed to be a bit taken aback. “Uh . . . well, yes. The army has a supply of livestock to feed its soldiers. Next time one of them is slaughtered I’ll make sure that you can take your fill first. Until then feel free to explore the camp, though do not leave it for now. Oh, and one more thing.”

“Yes?”

“Please do not eat anyone.”

 

[TyrantTriumphant]

Sure enough, within the next half-hour a soldier came by and informed Jack that it was time for his feeding. The human led him to the livestock pens where he was presented with a cow that was scheduled to be slaughtered.

Jack wasn’t entirely certain as to what the natives had been expecting, but judging from their overall response, it probably wasn’t him extending his fangs, plunging them into the cow’s neck, and sucking the animal dry.

Really the reaction could be described as mixed. Which was honestly far better than Jack had been expecting.

Some of them took exception to his feeding habits, naturally enough. A couple of them made faces, some made what Jack assumed to be signs against evil, and one even vomited for some reason.

But others seemed indifferent or even laughed at the whole spectacle. One of them even came up to him to ask how he was able to fit an entire cow’s worth of blood inside his body.

Jack even gave him an honest answer, which was that he had no clue whatsoever.

All in all, the whole thing seemed to have gone fairly well. Jack had a constant, if bland, supply of blood for however long the army camped here, and no one seemed too inclined to bother him.

After making sure he wouldn’t need to feed off of anyone, the Gangrel paid a visit the quartermaster to get supplied. Just some leather armor, a pair of knives, and a crossbow. Enough to protect himself while still staying mobile.

But now that all that was settled, he had the opportunity to rectify one of his largest problems for the moment: that he knew basically nothing about Thedas.

Jack had survived for two years fighting against the Sabbat, the Society of Leopold, and his fellow Camarilla, and the most important lesson he had learned though it all was that you never went into a situation without scoping out the battlefield.

And he had absolutely no idea what was going on here.

That and he needed to see how the locals would react to his presence. It had gone well so far, but if the Cainite would be living openly amongst humanity, then he’d need to see what they would think of his more monstrous aspects.

So naturally enough he found himself at the mage’s compound. Magic was always a point of ignorance for him, even back on earth, so this seemed like a good time to correct it.

Most of the mages were being guarded by templars, people who Jack wasn’t really eager to talk to. But there was one by herself. An older woman with white hair and red robes standing apart from the rest.

It seemed a good enough opportunity, and so walked up to her. “Hello there.” He said.

“Greetings, young man.” She responded in a grandmotherly tone. “You are Duncan's newest recruit, are you not? He's not a man easily impressed. You should be proud. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Wynne, one of the mages summoned by the king.”

“So I see.” He answered. “That’s actually why I wanted to talk to you. I have some questions about Thedas.”

“About . . . Thedas?” Wynne said, confusion lacing her voice. “I’m not sure what you mean by that.”

“It means that I am not from Thedas.” He responded.

“Ah, I’d heard rumors one the new Wardens was from some unknown land, but I hadn’t believed them. It just seems so outlandish.”

Jack nodded in agreement. “Yes, it does. I almost don’t believe it myself and I’m here. But I still need some answers.”

“Of course.” Wynne agreed. “I would be happy to help if I can.”

“Good. First off, what is magic?”

“Do you not have mages in your homeland?”

He shook his head. “Not that I’ve met. My species has its own blood mages, but I’ve never met a human mage before.”

“Blood mages?” Wynne’s tone was suddenly sharp.

“Yes. My people make extensive use of blood magic.”

Her eyes narrowed in response. “Are you a blood mage?”

“Of course not.” Jack explained. “I am of the Gangrel clan. Magic is the exclusive domain of the Tremere clan.”

Wynne let out sigh. “Still, you may want to keep silent on this topic. And perhaps about magic altogether. I don’t know how things are where you come from, but here blood magic is not viewed favorably.”

“Locals and their weird superstitions.” Jack snorted contemptuously. “Whatever. But can you tell me about these darkspawn I’m supposed to be fighting? It seems like a useful thing to know if I’m going to be a Warden.”

“Very well.” She answered with a tinge of annoyance. “To begin, do you know anything about the connection between the darkspawn and the Fade?”

“What the hell is the Fade?”

Confusion entered her voice once again. “It is the realm of spirits, where we all go when we sleep, or die.”

“I wouldn’t know about that.” Jack said. “My species doesn’t actually dream. We’re undead, so we just sort of go back to being regular dead for while during the day.”

Wynne’s jaw dropped and she instinctively reached for her staff. “You’re an abomination?” She hissed at him.

“I’ve been told there are some outward similarities, but no. It’s just part of my species’ natural life cycle. Or, unlife cycle I suppose.”

“But undead are just corpses possessed by demons! What else could you be?”

“A Cainite. If you’re not happy about the way I was born, then you can take it up with God. He’s the one who created my race after all.”

The old woman’s face clearly showed her internal struggle between curiosity and anger. Apparently, the living dead were a bit of a sore spot with these people. Good to know, I guess. Jack thought to himself.

“But that’s . . . wait.” Wynne paused mid speech. “You said you rest during the day. But it’s day now.”

“It’s not my fault that you humans can’t keep to civilized schedules.” Jack answered.

She opened her mouth to respond to this but seemingly thought better of it as she closed it again and sighed. “Yes well, I have many preparations to make before the battle, and I’m sure Duncan has better things for you to do. So, if you would excuse me?”

“Alright.” The Gangrel said. “But if you have any concerns or questions later, please take them to Duncan. I’ve already told him about my species and I don’t feel like doing it again. Of course, he’s fairly busy with saving the world right now, so it may take a while for him to get to you.”

This like a fine point to end the conversation, so Jack took his leave to look for this Alistair person he was supposed to talk to.

What a strange person that was. He thought as Wynne spluttered behind him.

 

[TyrantTriumphant]

The first thing that Jack felt when he found Alistair was an odd sense of familiarity. Not with Alistair of course, but because the human was being yelled at by a mage.

Jack had experience with being yelled at by mages. Multiple Tremere, the now deceased and unmissed prince of Manhattan, and now that old human woman whose name he couldn’t remember.

Really it seemed like anytime someone found out how to manipulate the fundamental pillars of reality they somehow thought that they were better than everyone else.

“Tell her I will not be harassed in this manner!” The mage yelled at Alistair.

“Yes, I was harassing you by delivering a message.” Alistair snarked back.

“Your glibness does you no credit.” The mage sneered in response.

“Here I thought we were getting along so well. I was even going to name one of my children after you... the grumpy one.”

“Enough! I will speak to the woman if I must! Get out of my way, fool!” The mage shouted before marching off in disgust.

Alistair sighed. “You know, one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together.” He said to Jack.

“Did you expect that it would?” Jack replied. “In my experience it takes a lot more than impending doom for people to put aside their petty grudges. I doubt they’re going to stop until the darkspawn have destroyed a city or two. That’s how it is back home.”

“Then I hope you’re wrong.” Alistair said. “Ferelden doesn’t have that many cities to go around.”

Alistair’s face lit up in realization.

“Wait. You’re Duncan’s new recruit. The one he said was . . .” Alistair’s face twisted in disgust, “Undead. And from another continent.”

“Yep, that’s me. Walking corpse animated by the blood of the living.” Jack said evenly. “By the way, Duncan did mention that I wasn’t an abomination, right? You people seem pretty wrapped up about those.”

Jack really would have preferred for the locals to be ignorant about his vampiric status, but if he was going to join the Wardens then there would be no way of hiding it. Without the Camarilla support network to keep himself hidden the only other realistic option was to hide on the fringes of society, one step ahead of the templars.

On the other hand, without the Camarilla, Jack couldn’t be punished for not following their rules.

It really was a nice change of pace.

“Ugh.” Alistair visibly gagged. “Whatever you are, you’re not as bad as I figured. I thought you’d be some rotting corpse or something. At least you don’t have a smell.”

“If only I could say the same about you.” Jack answered.

Jack’s second realization about Alistair was that he smelled awful.

It was somewhat strange, since Cainites, being dead, could only smell blood. One human’s blood smelled much like any other, though some, (like Jack) could notice their very small differences to track individuals.

But Alistair’s blood stank to such an extent that even some dumbass Sabbat shovel-head could smell him a block away.

“Seriously, what the hell is wrong with your blood?” Jack reeled back from the smell.

“What! What do you mean?”

“There’s a bunch of different scents mixing in your blood, and the stench is hideous.”

“With . . . my blood?” Alistair asked with a rather dazed look on his face.

“Yes. It’s a very odd mix of Duncan, Cailan, and templar. With a hint of elf.”

Alistair’s jaw dropped. “I smell like Cailan?”

“Somewhat.” Jack affirmed. “Your blood has this sour smell, which I assume is some Grey Warden thing. It also has the burnt templar smell mixed with some tangy smell that Cailan has. I have no idea what that is. Also, a hint of elf smell. I don’t know how to describe that.” Jack considered it for a moment. “Old, maybe?”

“Could you please not mention any of this to anyone?” Alistair pleaded. “The details of the joining are supposed to be a secret, and letting people know about the darkspawn smell would make people ask questions.”

“Is that what darkspawn smell like? Good to know I suppose.” Jack said. “I take it we’ll be drinking darkspawn blood then. I have to admit, I’ve been curious about how it tastes.”

“How did . . . you know what, never mind.” Alistair massaged his forehead. “You only need to drink it once by the way.”

“You do it your way and I’ll do it my way.” Jack answered.

“Ugh, Maker’s breath.” Alistair grimaced. “Just forget it. As the junior member of our order, I’ll be accompanying you when you prepare for the joining. Lucky me.”

---------------------------------------------------------------

Sometime later Jack and the other prospective Wardens had joined Duncan at his fire, (which Jack kept a good distance from) and prepared themselves for what might come.

“You found Alistair, did you? Good. I'll assume you are ready to begin preparations.” said Duncan.

“Assuming, of course, that you're quite finished riling up mages, Alistair.”

“What can I say? The revered mother ambushed me. The way she wields guilt they should stick her in the army.” Alistair snarked back.

“She forced you to sass the mage, did she? We cannot afford to antagonize anyone, Alistair. We don't need to give anyone more ammunition against us.”

Alistair sighed. “You're right, Duncan. I apologize.”

Duncan rounded on Jack. “And you seem to have done a fair job of angering the mages yourself. A senior enchanter came by an hour ago with a list of complaints about what kind of creatures we admit into the Wardens. Rumors about maleficar in the Wardens are strong enough as it is. We don’t need people thinking we have abominations too.”

“Sorry sir.” Jack answered.

If the Gangrel were to be honest, he had gotten a little carried away with his newfound freedom. Back home you could be executed for not wiping your teeth after you fed, so it was somewhat understandable.

Still, he really would have to conduct himself with more tact.

“Now then,” Duncan began, “You four will be heading into the Korcari Wilds to perform two tasks. The first is to obtain three vials of darkspawn blood, one for each recruit.”

“And the second?” Jack asked.

“There was once a Grey Warden archive in the Wilds, abandoned long ago when we could no longer afford to maintain such remote outposts. It has recently come to our attention that some scrolls have been left behind, magically sealed to protect them. Alistair, I want you to retrieve these scrolls if you can.”

“Alright sir.” Jack said. “Kill some darkspawn, take their blood, and grab the treaties. Understood.”

Duncan nodded in response. “Watch over your charges, Alistair. Return quickly, and safely.”

“We will.”

“Then may the Maker watch over your path. I will see you when you return.”

And so, the Cainite and his companions set forth into the Korcari Wilds, and the blood of Caine had come once again to Thedas.

 

[TyrantTriumphant]

“O first murderer, guide my fury as I enter into battle. Let my hands be true instruments of destruction.” Spoke Jack as he knelt in the marshy ground of the Korcari Wilds.

“O Crucified, guard my soul as I give myself over to my beast. Let my humanity still be strong as the rage of battle fades.”

Jack stood up and crossed himself. “Amen”.

His three companions joined him as he finished and they set out across the marsh.

“So,” Alistair asked. “What exactly were you doing there?”

“A prayer before battle. I noticed some of you praying with your local priestesses in the camp.” Jack responded. “So, I figured I should do the same.”

Alistair hummed to himself. “I just suppose that’s fair. But why did you choose to do this in the Wilds instead of back at camp?”

“Because Duncan told us not to piss anyone off if we could help it.” Jack said. “Do you really want me praying to my “heathen god” surrounded by a bunch of Chantry mothers?”

“Yes. I doubt that would end well.” Alistair conceded. “But wait. You said god, didn’t you pray to two?”

Jack shook his head. “No. There is only one God. The first murderer is the progenitor of my race. He is not a god.”

He put his hand on Alistair’s shoulder. “Look, it’s not really important right now. Let’s just head out.”

“Oh,” Jack said remembering something. “One thing first.”

He called upon the Protean power within his blood and channeled to his hands. His fingertips burst apart and in several seconds Jack’s fingers had been replaced with foot-long, knife like claws.

“Maker’s breath!” One of his companions yelled in shock. The Gangrel couldn’t remember his name.

“Look,” Jack said. “Mr. . . what’s your name again?”

“Daveth.” Daveth said with a hint of annoyance.

“Daveth. You guys don’t have to worry about this. It’s just a discipline. Kind of like what I did with those wolves a bit ago.”

The group of prospective Grey Wardens had been attacked by wolves shortly after entering the Korcari Wilds. While the party could have destroyed them, Jack had instead made use of the Animalism discipline to convince the wolves to leave. And then, like now, he had to explain that this was a natural ability of the Cainite race, and not some “evil” blood magic or some such nonsense.

“I don’t know. It just seems unnatural.” Alistair said. “Oh, but if we do run into anymore wolves, can I pet them?”

Jack gave Alistair a blank look in response. “What. No . . . I just . . . shut up Alistair.”

-------------------------------------------------------------

Jack’s first encounter with the darkspawn began with an arrow to the face.

He had been walking to the front of the other Wardens when he spotted some movement from a nearby hill, quickly followed by a flurry of arrows.

Most of those bounced off, considering that he was a Gangrel with considerable knowledge of the fortitude discipline, but one did manage to tear though one of his cheeks and though the roof of his jaw.

A fairly trivial injury for a Cainite, but obnoxious nonetheless.

The red haze of frenzy briefly creeped at the edge of Jack’s vision but he fought it back.

These darkspawn things weren’t worth frenzying over. He’d be punishing them for this insult anyway.

More arrows flew from the hill, followed by band of man-shaped rotten looking creatures that Jack assumed were darkspawn.

With a feral roar Jack charged the darkspawn and let loose with his claws. Their primitive armor was shredded like tissue paper and blood sprayed like it was coming out of a hose.

The darkspawn proved to be ferocious but not particularly competent. Though not one ran from battle they fell like chaff before the claws of the enraged Cainite.

It really reminded Jack of fighting shovel-heads.

Except these things were smart enough to pull off an ambush.

When one darkspawn remained, Jack forwent his claws and plunged his fangs into its throat and started to feed. The creature struggled but Jack continued to suck until the pathetic vessel was completely empty.

The thing tasted sour, like a stronger version of the smell coming from Duncan and Alistair. It was a little off-putting, but it paled before the utter satisfaction and fullness that could only be found from draining a human dry.

The Gangrel gave an involuntary ecstatic moan and looked to see how the other Wardens were doing. They appeared to have cleared out the darkspawn on the hill and were now busy staring in shock at their blood-sucking companion.

“Andraste’s knickers!” Alistair swore. “What was that?”

Ripping out the arrow lodged in his jaw and channeling blood to the wound, Jack gazed disdainfully on his companions. “It was me eating. I drink blood to survive. Didn’t we already go over this?”

“Yes, but that was an animal! We didn’t think you’d eat people.” Daveth said.

“I was under the impression that darkspawn aren’t people.” Jack said.

“Yes but . . . it looks so much like . . .” Alistair’s voice trailed off. “But it has the taint! And you just drank a whole darkspawn! You’ll probably be dead before we reach the outpost.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “For a human that might be true. But you forget, I am already dead. From what I’ve been told the taint can only infect living organisms. I doubt that this taint could any more affect me than it could a rock.”

Turning away from his companions he began to walk towards their abandoned outpost. “If you have any more complaints,” He called from over his shoulder, “Just write them down so you can all whine at me at the same time when we get back to camp. It’ll be more efficient that way.”

-------------------------------------------------------

Jack screamed in rage as a darkspawn emissary shot a bolt of acid into his shoulder. Snarling he crushed the head of a hurlock he was fighting and charged the emissary. He dodged another bolt of acid and tore its belly open with his claws.

These darkspawn had been more formidable than Jack expected. While most of them were fairly unskilled, they were dangerous when directed properly.

Throughout the Warden’s journey through the Wilds the darkspawn had ambushed them with annoying frequency. The darkspawn attacked from cover, laid traps, and threw magic while using their expendable hordes as cover for their real attacks.

It was depressingly similar to fighting the Sabbat.

Regardless, the fight was over for the moment. The area seemed clear of darkspawn for the moment and the outpost was in sight.

When the Wardens entered, however, they were in for disappointment. To their dismay the entire structure had been looted down to the bedrock. The most that remained were the splinters of some old chest.

“Well, well, what have we here?” A sultry voice greeted Jack as he desperately searched the rubble for the treaties. “Are you a vulture, I wonder? A scavenger poking amidst a corpse whose bones were long since cleaned? Or merely an intruder, come into these darkspawn-filled Wilds of mine in search of easy prey?”

Turning around, Jack could get a full view of the woman behind the voice. She was a fairly young human with pallid skin and vibrant yellow eyes, dressed in some primitive collection of rags.

Also, to judge from the staff she was carrying, she was probably a mage. Best to tread lightly with this one. Jack still had some acid burns from those emissaries.

“What say you, hmm? Scavenger or intruder?” The woman said.

“Does this fetid swamp belong to you then?” Jack responded. “I didn’t see any indication of that when I entered. Perhaps you should put up a sign. You could label it “Property of badly dressed witch woman.””

The witch sneered in response. “I do not need to mark my wilds like some mindless animal. I know them as only one who owns them could. Can you claim the same?”

She sauntered past them and turned around. “I have watched your progress for some time. "Where do they go," I wondered, "why are they here?" And now you disturb ashes none have touched for so long. Why is that?”

“Don't answer her.” Alistair warned Jack. “She looks Chasind, and that means others may be nearby.”

“You fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?” The witch asked scornfully.

“Yes, swooping is bad.” Alistair mumbled back.

“Witch of the Wilds? Such idle fancies, those legends. Have you no minds of your own?”

Turning to Jack, the witch asked, “You there, abomination. I doubt a creature like has cause to fear from any witch. Tell me your name and I shall tell you mine. Let us be civilized. As much as something like you can.”

Jack sighed. “Look, I don’t really care about your name or this lovely piece of wet dirt you call home. If you have the Grey Warden treaties than hand them over. If not, then sod off so we can go back to doing Warden stuff.”

She scowled at the Gangrel. “Fine then. I will be brief. My name is Morrigan, and my mother is responsible for removing the treaties.”

“Great. Then do you suppose you could take us to her?”

“There is a sensible request.” Morrigan answered. “Odd considering the source, but I will agree.”

“I'd be careful.” Alistair said quietly. “First it's, "I like you..." but then "Zap!" Frog time.”

“She'll put us all in the pot, she will. Just you watch.” Daveth whined back.

“Look,” Jack snapped at Daveth, “If you’re so concerned about wandering around with someone likely to eat you, then why the hell have you been traveling with me?”

Daveth opened his mouth to respond but thought better of it and just stood nervously in silence.

Morrigan rolled her eyes at the display. “Follow me, then, if it pleases you.”

-----------------------------------------------------------

And so, the Wardens followed Morrigan deeper into the Wilds eventually reaching a primitive looking hut with a grey-haired old woman standing in front of it.

“Greetings, Mother.” Morrigan said to the woman. “I bring before you four Grey Wardens who—”

“I see them, girl.” The woman answered. “Mmm. Much as I expec. . .” Her voice trailed off as she got her first good look at Jack, her face an expression of shock, quickly morphing into a snarl of pure hatred.

“Cainite.” The woman growled out in disgust. She waved a hand towards the Wardens, and Jack’s entire world became fire.

 

[Urabrask Revealed]

King Cailan was lucky this specific Jack is a Gangrel rather than some Brujah. Depending of the individual, they might have attacked any noble and royality on principle. I'm not so sure about Duncan only taking Jack back to the war camp, I must have missed the reasoning for not taking a detour to the various original player characters' locations.
This is interestening:

and the blood of Caine had come once again to Thedas.

So Caine or his descendants were in Thedas previously. I wonder if they left any cultural marks.

There's a typo here:

But now that all that was settled, he had the opportunity to rectify one of his largest problems for the moment: that he new basically nothing about Thedas.

You might want to correct that.

“Oh, but if we do run into anymore wolves, can I pet them?”

Sounds just like him.

“Cainite.” The woman growled out in disgust. She waved a hand towards the Wardens, and Jack’s entire world became fire.

Yeah, she's certainly old enough to know them, and cunning enough to survive an encounter with them.

 

[TyrantTriumphant]

This is a bit to go over so I'm going to break it down.

King Cailan was lucky this specific Jack is a Gangrel rather than some Brujah. Depending of the individual, they might have attacked any noble and royality on principle.

Indeed. Of course if he were like that he wouldn't have joined the Wardens in the first place. As a Gangrel Camarilla loyalist, Jack has a lot of experience in tolerating self important assholes.

I'm not so sure about Duncan only taking Jack back to the war camp, I must have missed the reasoning for not taking a detour to the various original player characters' locations.

It's always been implied in game that the character origins you don't recruit die. In this I figure that he was a little late to one of them and stumbling on Jack seemed like a good opportunity to make up for that. Also, I don't want to write another party member.

There's a typo here:

Fixed, along with the one on Spacebattles.

Yeah, she's certainly old enough to know them, and cunning enough to survive an encounter with them.

She is most certainly not old enough to have met the Cainites who arrived in Thedas. Mythal, the elven goddess who is possessing Flemeth, is. And any cultural influence that these visitors left would be long lost to time.

 

[TyrantTriumphant]

Arthur Dawson had been a member of the Sabbat longer than any mortal’s natural lifespan, and every one of his one-hundred-ninety-seven years of experience led him to one inescapable conclusion.

The Sabbat had failed.

While humans were obviously inferior to Cainites, they still had a place to play in God’s creation. But then why did the Sabbat treat them so poorly?

Though many in modern nights had forgotten this, the Sabbat’s noble crusade against the Antediluvians and their pawns had begun not just to save the Cainite race, but the human race as well. If the ancients were allowed to rise then it would be the doom of all that exists.

Cainites would naturally take their rightful places as rulers of the earth after their final victory over the ancients, as was right and proper for those who had saved the world.

But being an elevated being came with responsibilities as well as privileges, something that the Sabbat had once understood.

Now, however, many of Arthur’s brethren had cast aside their duties, their honor, and their God, all for the sake of meaningless cruelty. Those who had cast down the wicked Baali in Tenochtitlan and destroyed two of the vile Antediluvians, had been reduced to a collection of gore-streaked psychotics desperate for their next thrill.

It was enough to drive a monster to despair.

But in the depths of his darkness, Arthur had found light.

Through circumstances he did not entirely understand he now found himself in this new land the locals called Orlais.

And he knew his purpose.

“People of Orlais!” Arthur screamed from the top of a small platform to a crowd of peasants bellow.

“The Chantry has lied to you! When the Tevinter Imperium enslaved the south, they called for war! But when your own nobles do the same, what is their response? That this is the Maker’s will!”

These so called “Chevaliers” who inhabited this land were a disgrace to the ideals of chivalry. The nobles they served were no better. But Orlais could be purified.

The Sabbat could be purified.

“You live in terror of your noble “protectors”, fearful of the day they turn their greed upon you or your wives! Kept in in servitude only because they are more powerful than you!” The power of the presence discipline radiated through the Lasombra’s voice, his majesty filling the hearts of the onlookers with the truth of his words.

“But they can be defeated. Behold!” Arthur grabbed two bundles from behind the platform and dumped them before his audience. The peasants gasped in shock at the sight of the two defeated and bound Chevaliers, wide eyed and terrified at the feet of their captor.

Though Arthur was loath to admit it, they had been decent fighters as far as mortals were concerned. Despicable they might be, but the Chevaliers were no slouches when it came to combat.

That might be problematic. Still, those few among them who could be called righteous would be needed in the days to come.

“I defeated these men!” Arthur’s voice boomed. “I can show you how defend yourselves! I can share my power with you!”

Arthur Dawson knew how he had arrived here. It was obvious.

Caine had sent him.

The Dark Father had seen the depths of depravity his children had sunk to, and had provided a solution. The Lasombra would destroy this corrupt Orlais and raise up a new lineage of Cainites from its ashes.

A new Sabbat.

And when he had an army of Cainites true to Caine’s vision at his back, Arthur would find a way back to earth.

He would purge the Sabbat of the maniacs and internalists that plagued its ranks. The Camarilla would be destroyed. The Antediluvians would be hunted down and brought to justice for their manipulations and their betrayal of Caine.

Cainites would take their due.

“Though it is true that the ruled have obligations to their masters,” The Lasombra explained to the crowd. “They also have a duty to those below them. To serve and protect, to be fair and deliver justice. But your rulers have done nothing but take from you, rape you, and murder you!”

He raised his arms to the heavens. “Join me and I and together we will overthrow your corrupt rulers and bring justice to this blighted realm! Join me and we will free the human race from the lies of Andraste! Join me and be free!”

To emphasize his point Arthur pulled out a sword and beheaded one of the Chevaliers. The blood of the false knight flowed out from his ignoble neck and trickled down the platform and into the soil of Orlais.

The first drops of a tsunami.

And so, the truth of Arthur’s words burned itself into the minds of the audience. It couldn’t have been otherwise.

For Arthur was of the seventh generation of Cainites. His blood close enough to the first murderer to access powers that that could shake the very fabric of reality.

And while so many of his brethren frittered away their eternities with meaningless politics or petty grudges, Arthur Dawson had spent his unlife becoming strong.

Strong enough to bend the minds of mortals with a word.

“Will you join me?” Arthur screamed at the crowd before him. “Will you throw off your chains?”

The peasants stood up and cheered, stomping their feet with their fists raised in the air. Bloodlust was clear in their eyes.

Arthur had won them over, but this was only the first step. He would have to embrace new Cainites from the worthiest among them, train them in the art of warfare.

He wouldn’t go charging right into the nearest army of course. Arthur was not some idiotic shovel-head.

It would start as an insurgency, patrols ambushed, tax collectors waylaid, and those responsible vanishing into the countryside like a fog.

He would spread his influence from town to town, embracing new recruits as he went.

Then the cities. Every back alley and inn would become a refuge for his cause and trap for his enemies. The nobles would be unable to travel outside their castles without the protection of an army.

While they were blind to the infiltrators amongst themselves.

“Now hear this Celene!” The Lasombra concluded his speech. “Though your empire has survived many foes, you will not survive this. Though the tides of darkspawn and Tevinter have broken against your defenses, you will be shattered by the Sabbat!

“Fear the Sword of Caine!”

 

[Tiamat]

😲
Holy Shit....no pun intended.

On the one hand....oh lord, I must admit part of me is positively giddy to see a bunch of piggish, backstabbing treacherous "nobles" like the ones in Orlais and under Celene's watch, the Empire of Orlais be humbled and consumed in fire.

On the other hand...well, be careful what you wish for. Nothing worse than a Sabbat vampire who's a "true believer" and also apparently smart and canny to boot, and not just a fanatic idiot.

I get the feeling darkspawn and blood mages are soon going to be the very least of everyone's problems.

 

[TyrantTriumphant]

😲
Holy Shit....no pun intended.

On the one hand....oh lord, I must admit part of me is positively giddy to see a bunch of piggish, backstabbing treacherous "nobles" like the ones in Orlais and under Celene's watch, the Empire of Orlais be humbled and consumed in fire.

On the other hand...well, be careful what you wish for. Nothing worse than a Sabbat vampire who's a "true believer" and also apparently smart and canny to boot, and not just a fanatic idiot.

I get the feeling darkspawn and blood mages are soon going to be the very least of everyone's problems.

The darkspawn and Loghain were never planned to be more than secondary threats. Still, I wouldn't count them or Orlais out just yet. Orlais may be a mess, but they're not completely stupid. And if anything could unite their aristocracy, it would definitely be a peasant rebellion. Given the circumstances as they currently stand, Arthur can certainly weaken Orlais, and might be able to conquer it after decades of struggle, but that's a big if. And while Jack might be tough, he's not tough enough to withstand mages shooting fireballs at his face.

But as the Antediluvians begin to stir, who knows how circumstances might change? Well, besides me.

 

[TyrantTriumphant]

Everything was fire.

A huge wall of flame surrounded the hut, penning in the Wardens like cattle.

The other Wardens readied their weapons, Morrigan stood slack jawed, but Jack didn’t notice.

Jack only noticed the fire.

His beast was screaming at him to run. To abandon his comrades. To tear through anyone and everyone standing between him and safety.

He would if he could.

But he was surrounded by the fire. Any attempt to flee would only destroy him. Jack knew this, but Rötschreck still surged against his mind like a tidal wave.

So, Jack stood still like a statue, every ounce of his willpower dedicated to staving off the beast.

He could hear talking, words, loud and demanding. But Jack couldn’t understand them.

And then the fire vanished.

The beast subsided.

Jack, now free from his terror, found himself face to face with the old woman.

“It has been so long since I have seen one of your kind,” sneered the woman, “I had forgotten how pathetic you are when in the presence of fire. I like to think that it brings out your true selves, unburdened by the facade of humanity.”

Her voice hardened. “But enough of pleasantries. What are you doing in Thedas vampire?” She spat out the last word like a poison.

“I . . . I don’t . . .” Jack stammered, still recovering from the mental trauma of the fire.

Of course, the woman wasn’t particularly sympathetic to Jack’s difficulties.

“How did you come to Thedas? Answer me!”

“I don’t know! I don’t know how I got here.”

The witch looked pensive. “Yes, I believe you. You’re one of Ennoia’s spawn. Her brood were barely capable of thought, much less deceit.”

After taking a moment to absorb her statement, Jack was of two minds about the witch’s speech. He was torn between being insulted by her incredibly racist stereotype, and utter terror at the very thought of his clan’s Antediluvian.

He quickly settled on terror.

“You don’t know anything about Ennoia!” Jack screamed at the witch. “You can’t know! You don’t!”

“What is going on here?” Alistair’s voice cut through Jack’s fear and confusion like a knife to the face, and was just as painful. “Who are you supposed to be and what in Andraste’s name are you talking about?”

The witch seemed to notice him and the others for the first time. “My name is Flemeth, Wardens. Do you have any idea what you have accepted into your ranks? For an organization dedicated to fighting monsters, you seem to be quite willing to recruit them.”

Daveth’s eyes widened. “Flemeth?” He exclaimed in a high-pitch tone. “She’s a witch of the Wilds! She’ll-” His statement was interrupted as Flemeth flicked her wrist and Daveth went flying off into the brush as if some massive invisible hand had swatted him aside.

“Silence! I am not in the mood for such idiocy.” She took a moment to look over the remaining Wardens. Focusing on Alistair she said, “I take it you lead this rabble?”

Alistair, weapon at the ready, answered the witch. “Yes. I am the senior Warden present. And if you attack my companions again and I will be forced to slay you. I was a templar before I was a Warden.”

Flemeth threw back her head and laughed.

“You? Slay me? Oh, how precious of you!” She chuckled. “That was almost enough to bring back my good mood.” She cast a sideways glare at Jack. “But not quite.”

Flemeth frowned. “But you did not come here to threaten an old woman. You came for your treaties, yes? And before you begin barking, your precious seal wore off long ago. I have protected these.”

Alistair lowered his sword slightly. “You... oh. You protected them?”

“And why not? I had every intention of delivering them to you. As far as I knew the Darkspawn were my greatest concern. Until this abomination crawled to my doorstep.

"A blight sweeping over the land would be in the interests of no one. But what of his kind?” She pointed at Jack.

“A choice between a plague of darkspawn or a plague of blood? I would prefer the former. The darkspawn can be pushed back, an archdemon slain. But as for the Cainites?” She shook her head.

“Even if he is as innocent as he claims to be, his very presence is a signal to other, greater monsters.” At this her face that seemed almost regretful. Worried perhaps? Jack didn’t know, nor did he particularly care, still in turmoil from the mention of his clan founder’s name.

“Even at their very height, the Evanuris could barely hold back the Antediluvians.” She continued. “And nothing in this age could even dream of the power they once held. Cainites only grow stronger with age. It has been so very long . . ." Flemeth trailed off, thankfully uninterested in explaining the ludicrous drivel she had just spewed.

Unfortunately for Jack’s peace of mind, the humans didn’t seem like they would let this slide.

“What?” Alistair spluttered. “You can’t just say something like and leave it! What in the Maker’s name does that even mean?”

Flemeth smiled. “I think your friend might be better able to explain this to you. And he will.”

Before Jack could react Flemeth thrust her hand out at him and he felt something strange go through him. A human might describe it as a tingle on the inside of their skin. But he hadn’t felt anything like that since he’d been embraced several years ago.

Being dead had that effect.

“Where is Ennoia?” Flemeth asked him, all traces of amusement gone from her voice.

Jack opened his mouth to lie but to his complete surprise, found himself speaking the truth.

“As far as I know she hasn’t been seen in around two thousand years, but,” Jack clamped his mouth shut, unwilling to divulge clan secrets.

“But what?” Flemeth snarled at him.

Jack’s mouth snapped open of its own accord, and the Cainite stood helplessly as his body committed treason against his clan, and the Camarilla. “Justicar Xaviar claimed that she has begun to devour her descendants from torpor. He says that she’s waking up. I didn’t believe him. None of us did. Not until,” Through sheer stubbornness, the young Gangrel forced himself to stop talking.

This whole experience was surreal, but not entirely novel. This was not the first time Jack had been unwillingly commanded by a more powerful being. If he could still dream, he would be having nightmares of the utter hell his existence had been under the thrall of Prince Roy.

He stood before the witch, helpless to move his arms, his legs, or even his eyes. Flemeth appeared so much like Roy in that moment. The man he had hated more than anything else in his unlife.

That hate gave him the strength to resist Flemeth for a moment.

Unfortunately for Jack Tanner, all the hate in the world couldn’t change the fact that he was a Neonete, and Flemmeth was something much more.

“What happened afterword?” the witch demanded again.

The Week of Nightmares had happened. The Ravnos Antediluvian woke up and devoured his descendants along with an entire country of humans.

Though it was killed through unknown means, the ancient had left a terrible mark before its passing.

A whole clan gone.

Two-hundred million humans consumed.

The masquerade hung by a thread.

But more than that, the entire Cainite race now knew that the Antediluvians were real. They knew that their ancestors could rise up on any night and feast on the heart’s blood of their children.

And the Gangrel clan were next on the menu.

Jack Tanner was not going to tell this to Flemeth. The Gangrel clan had refused to share the knowledge of their coming destruction with the other clans, and though he had declined to depart the Camarilla with the majority of his clan, he still kept this secret.

He would not divulge it to some mortal witch who lived in a swamp.

And though his options were limited, there was one part of his body he could still move.

Decision made, Jack Tanner bit off his own tongue and spat it at the witch’s feet.

Everyone present was in shock.

The Wardens, who had been apparently been more interested in what he had to say, rather then his safety, stared in a mix of surprise and disgust.

Except for Daveth. He was still in the bushes somewhere.

And Morrigan had apparently made herself scarce while Jack was distracted.

But Flemeth was still there, and had a look of honest surprise on her face. Jack wasn’t particularly great a reading people, but he had the weird feeling that his act of self-mutilation had come as more of a shock than anything else since their meeting.

She stood still for a moment, pursing her lips, and finally gave a heavy sigh.

“Very well Wardens, you may take your treaties and your pet monster.” She said. “Just leave my Wilds.”

And so, they collected their possessions and returned to Ostagar in silence.

 

[Urabrask Revealed]

Oh boy, we have a fanatic and true believer of the Sabbat. These are the most dangerous of people, alive and undead alike.
It's going to be interestning how the political landscape of the world gets changed by the cainites and their ideologies. All that's left to enter are the Camarilla and the Tzimere, and the clusterfuck will be complete.

Now that I think of it, the Tzimere might have both the greatest and least difficulties of fitting in among a medieval society...

“Very well Wardens, you may take your treaties and your pet monster.” She said. “Just leave my Wilds.”

Welp, looks like Flemeth and her inhabitant might be a lot more motivated to take a proactive stance on the world's stage, especially with the fanatic seemingly attempting to recreate Nosgoth.
Gotta say, Jack biting off his tongue to preserve his clan's secrets is impressive.

 

[TyrantTriumphant]

Oh boy, we have a fanatic and true believer of the Sabbat. These are the most dangerous of people, alive and undead alike.
It's going to be interestning how the political landscape of the world gets changed by the cainites and their ideologies. All that's left to enter are the Camarilla and the Tzimere, and the clusterfuck will be complete.

Now that I think of it, the Tzimere might have both the greatest and least difficulties of fitting in among a medieval society...


Welp, looks like Flemeth and her inhabitant might be a lot more motivated to take a proactive stance on the world's stage, especially with the fanatic seemingly attempting to recreate Nosgoth.
Gotta say, Jack biting off his tongue to preserve his clan's secrets is impressive.

The Tzimisce and Tremere are definitly going to play a part later, and the Tzimisce will be very interested in what they can do with the local wildlife.

Also, keep in mind that while Jack biting off his tongue was pretty cool, it will grow back. He doesn't lose anything in the long run.

 

[Urabrask Revealed]

He doesn't lose anything in the long run.

I know, but it still shows a lot of dedication to what he believes in. That one can respect.

 

[LifeisTiresome]

@TyrantTriumphant

Ok, so why did the Witch not try and kill the Vamp seeing as she abhors him so much?

Also, how did Dragon Age world manage to win against an Antideluvian?

So it took the Elven gods working together to best Ennoia?

How powerful are they cause well Ennoia in WOD apocalypse became one with the planet?

 

[TyrantTriumphant]

Ok, so why did the Witch not try and kill the Vamp seeing as she abhors him so much?

At the moment Flemeth is thoroughly confused and figures this is part of some larger plot. She doesn't want to cut off a potential source of information until she knows more.

Also, how did Dragon Age world manage to win against an Antideluvian?

The answer to this and the later questions are a bit spoilery, so don't read further if that bothers you. This is also going to be a bit long.

Spoiler

To begin, this event took place thousands of years ago, during the time of the second city. The Antediluvians were certainly strong back then, but not nearly as strong as they are in modern nights. If the modern day Antediluvians had done it then the Evanuris would have been thoroughly screwed.

For the second point, I think you may have misread the post a bit because I wrote Antediluvians, as in multiple Antediluvians. Again, at the time they were not as powerful as they would later become, but there are several other factors that allowed the Evanuris to achieve victory beyond relative strength.

The first is that only five of the Antediluvians ever actually came to Thedas. Specifically, Ennoia, Saulot, the Eldest, Cappadocius, and Lasombra. The rest didn't care.

The second point is that the Evanuris were united, while the Antediluvians were simply five individuals pursuing their own goals. They all went out of their way to avoid each other while in Thedas and certainly never fought together. Indeed, while in Thedas the presence of the others kept them from using their full power as that would leave them open to a backstab from one of their siblings. Not to mention they still had their power bases on earth to maintain.

The last and most important reason is that even the Antediluvians who actually bothered to come didn't care about Thedas that much. Ennoia was only there because she was bored and wanted to fight giant monsters. The rest were there for magical research.

While it may have seemed like a war from the perspective of the Evanuris, calling it that would be quite generous to their capabilities. They didn't so much defeat the Antediluvians as keep them from wrecking anything too important until they got bored and left to do something else.

The mentioned Antediluvians would make short trips to Thedas every so often until the first Baali war, at which point they had more important things to do and couldn't really be bothered to go back.

I hope that addresses your questions.

 

[LifeisTiresome]

SNIPPED OUT

You should put the spoilers part in a spoiler box.

 

[TyrantTriumphant]

You should put the spoilers part in a spoiler box.

You're right. Fixed.

 

[LifeisTiresome]

You're right. Fixed.

Thanks for the answering my questions btw. Makes sense.